Page 27 of Morally Corrupt

I am dying, that's how ready I am. It's been what, almost two years since he fucked me as Pink? I can't believe I've made it this long, but my breaking point is nearing.

I may just snap and tear his clothes off, but that would undo years of pretending to be sweet, innocent Bianca.

Fucking hell!

"It says here to add more rose oil," I say to myself as I follow the instructions for the love spell. When the natural cannot yield results, you have to reorient yourself towards the supernatural. Not that I'm a great believer, but at this point, I'm willing to try anything.

If I can't seduce him with my body, I doubt a dozen candles, some rose oil, and an incantation is going to do the job.

But alas, I will try it.

I place the candles in a circle and add some rose oil clock-wise as I recite the verses I'd found on the web.

"So mote it be," I end the chant, closing my eyes and willing it to happen. I imagine Theo on one knee, asking me to marry him, after which, he'd whisk me to bed and make love to me in a thousand ways.

A smile spreads on my face as I imagine it.

The spell done, I await the results.

Days pass, and then weeks, and I'm starting to believe that either magic isn't real, or I must have offended those love fairies somehow.

But just as I feel hopelessness settle deep in my bones, I am regaled with the best of news — from my father, nonetheless.

One afternoon he calls me in his study to inform me that Theo's asked for my hand in marriage and that he will soon propose.

"You'll do better to accept, Bianca. You can't do better than him. He has a bright future ahead of him." My father lists all of Theo's qualities in an attempt to convince me that indeed, he is the best choice of husband.

On the surface, I nod like the obedient daughter that I am, but on the inside, I'm so giddy I high five all the love deities out there for making this happen.

I smile to myself. Now I just have to wait.

9

THEO

Taking a deep breath, I mentally go again over my lines. I need this to be perfect. I've already set up the bedroom. I'd taken to the internet for advice on the perfect proposal, and I'd followed all the advice I could find. From candles, to rose petals, and everything to ensure the atmosphere is as romantic as possible.

Bianca should arrive soon, and as I planned, I'll make her dinner first, and then I'll bring her to the room.

Fuck, I'm too nervous!

We'd talked about our feelings before, but we haven't outrightly exchanged I love you's yet. But tonight is the night. I'll be handing her my heart on a platter.

The oven beeps, and I hurry to remove the tray. I start arranging the plates when the doorbell rings.

The moment I open the door, my jaw almost drops.

She looks like a goddess. My goddess.

She's wearing a dusty pink dress that clings to her body, emphasizing her hips and waist. I swallow hard, the sight of her looking so delicious doing little to calm my nerves.

I open my door wider for her, and she gives me a smile as she walks past me, waving a wine bottle. My eyes follow her around, almost glued to her ass.

"You cooked?" She places the bottle on the table, looking around the kitchen.

"Only for you." I come behind her, hands on her hips, and I lay a kiss on her cheek.

"You have to tell me what the occasion is." She sits daintily on the chair, and I stifle a groan, the sight of her enough to make me hard for days.

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